


Life Divided

by Capricious_Passions



Series: Mob Boss Stan Pines [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capricious_Passions/pseuds/Capricious_Passions
Summary: After a fire swept away the Pines Family, Stan is left alone, with all of New Jersey now one Mob Boss down.(Some random ideas of Stan's life before Dipper and Mabel that I might post)MAJOR SPOILER for 'Mob Boss Stan Pines.' Will literally change the way you read the whole thing. Unless you're into that.





	1. Cruel Endings

**Author's Note:**

> Fiddleford's last meeting with Stan Pines for the next 35 years.

"I have to admit. I'm surprised you even called."

Fiddleford sat, uncomfortable in the chair across Stanley's, a desk between them, but at least it put room between the heavy sense of discomfort dripping it's way down his temple. "I ... I need a loan - ,"

"Right." Stanley plucked up a paper and gave it a scan. "One loan of 15,000 dollars written out to a Fiddleford McGucket. Do I have that right?" Fiddleford stayed quiet. Stan glanced back at the slip. "You've tried banks. Loan sharks. The  _Northwests_. No one will even touch you." He glanced up with a smile.

Fiddleford glowered. "You've been makin' my life very difficult recently." Stanley laughed. Fiddleford watched him, growing more and more sour. "What do you want from me? I  _need_  that loan."

"Right, for -  _computers_." Stanley leaned back. "If I recall, that wasn't even a winning idea, was it? Who's to say I'm not misplacing my money?"

"Stop it." Fiddleford cut through his jeers. "Just tell me what you want for it. Why'd you make yourself the  _only_  person I can do business with?"

Stanley stopped poking fun. His expression stilled a bit as he grew serious. "Because McGucket. You're the only person left alive who I can ask this question in good faith."

"What?" Fiddleford was confused.

"That's right. Just a question." Stanley smiled again - a small smile.

Fiddleford thought it looked a bit dangerous. "Just a question? And then you'll give me the loan?"

"Sure," Stanley leaned forward in his chair. "But you have to answer it  _right_ , is the trick."

Fiddleford was wary, but he couldn't see why. "What's the question?"

Stanely's smile grew wider. "What ... is my name?"

Fiddleford frowned, "What?" Stanley eyed him, waiting. Fiddleford grasped the meaning behind the question. "Why ... ," His expression grew hard. "What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?" Stanley straightened and looked around at his desk. He glanced at Fiddleford, not smiling anymore, not teasing. Just ... waiting. Fiddleford's gaze dropped the floor, a nervousness setting in. He stared back up at Stanley, realizing the simplicity and complexity of the question all mixed together. He swallowed hard.

And the man sitting in front of him? Fiddleford looked him over, and thought back on their entire conversation so far - looking for a clue, the key - trying to figure out what man he was talking with. He sat in his chair and took his time thinking it over - he had to answer it  _right_ , was the trick.

As the seconds ticked, Stanley's face drifted more and more drawn, till he looked almost bored. He gestured to the door. "Leave. Think on it. Come back later." Fiddleford, seemed panicked for a second, as if he didn't really think he'd be allowed back in. Stanley shook his head. "I need your answer, come back when you have one." He turned in his chair, his back to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford got up and cautiously left the room, throwing a last look at Stanley for any sign of a clue.

***

Stanford stood at the desk, the chair pushed aside. He looked over at Fiddleford, sitting in the chair across from him. "So ... did you bring an answer?"

Fiddleford wasn't there to be prodded. "I don't need to answer your asinine question just to get myself started. Just give me the money - this is  _ridiculous_."

Stanford looked disappointed. "So you don't know." He glanced at the door, dragged his gaze back. "You really can't tell?" He straightened and walked around the desk. "After all the time you spent with us?" His expression was less than amused.

Fiddleford glared at him. "Enough with your - with your  _games_."

"You know, you'd think you would have at least picked up on this - ," Stanford held up a gloved hand. "Six fingers. Stanford Pines. There, easy." He looked to Fiddleford for some recognition. When he didn't get it, he nodded with a smile. "Of course ... it could be a prosthetic. I could be Stanley Pines. Wearing an extra finger to throw you off." He shrugged.

"This is sick." Fiddleford's voice was low. "You're brother is dead, and you're just  _standing_  there -  _playing_  me - ,"

" _No_  - " Stanford's voice was loud but even, commanding focus. " _No_ , what's 'sick' is selling off someone's private work. You're  _friends_  work. Or - or at least  _pretending_  to be friends when you planned on stabbing them in the back the  _moment_  things looked hairy.  What's sick is leaving us - leaving me, leaving my  _brother_  - high and dry to run off and forget all about  _any of it_. What's  _sick_  is that the only compassion you hold for any of the Pines family is traditional respect for  _the dead_. You wouldn't even care, except we had all  _died_  horrifically, and even now - you parade it around like some excuse: for  _money_. For  _more money._ So I'll ask you again," Stanford slammed his hand on the desk. " _What is my name_?"

Fiddleford stood from his chair. Hands unsteady, he planted them in his pockets and walked out of the room.

Stanford stared straight ahead as Fiddleford disappeared behind him, then let his shoulder's drop as the sound of the door swinging close echoed from down the hall. He straightened, then turned back to his work.

***

Stanley wasn't expecting Fiddleford's entrance at all. One moment he was sitting at the desk, and the next McGucket was entering the room. He stopped, stilled, then looked at his guest almost warily.

But Fiddleford looked warier. He seemed tired, though not physically as he was well groomed, but he stepped into the room, not taking a seat but standing besides it. Stanley looked at him, not knowing what to say, but waiting. He didn't have to wait long.

"Stan." Fiddleford's voice was tired, but sure. "You're name is Stan. Stan Pines." He didn't say anything else. Nothing more.

Stanely blinked. His gaze fell to his desk, looking around - surprised. "Thank you." He looked up.

"Why?" Fiddleford's brows furrowed in confusion.

Stanley, surprise melted into bitter resentment and he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Not to you." He opened a drawer, then pulled out a check, already signed. He handed it to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford took the check, written out for exactly what he asked, 15,000 dollars. "In what method do I pay you back - ?"

"Keep it." Stanley closed the drawer. "Never come see me again."

Fiddleford shot him a long look. Then he turned and slipped out of the room. Out in the hall he starred down at the loan - now a grant. He gave the entrance to Stan's office one last glance, then left the house and never came back.


	2. Love Sees Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mabel tried match making Stan and Greasy Diner's very own lovely waitress - Susan. Only problem is, they already have history.

Stanford looked over the Greasy Diner's menu with one hand still hovering over his journal, holding a pen. The waitress came over to take his order and he spared her a glance. "Yes, I'm ready to order. I'd like the pancakes." 

"So the usual?" 

Stanford looked up in time to catch the woman giving him a uncharacteristic smile. "Uh ... yes." He nodded, noting Stanley's work. "The usual then." He folded up his menu and passed it over. 

The woman took it with a wink. "Sure thing hon." 

Stanford blinked back, watching her leave. He looked down, then turned to his journal with the intention of ignoring it. A few minutes later his food arrived, but he was too engrossed in writing down the last few scribbles to pay attention as his waitress dropped off the plate and left. He finished the last marks, then looked up to eat. And saw a napkin with a series of numbers. A phone number. 

Stanford snatched up his fork with a resentful snort. " _Lee_ ," he muttered. "Can a man not eat his breakfast in peace?"

***

"Get off my case. You don't even like those guys." Stanley strode across the room and picked up another shirt, sniffing it before declaring it fine. 

"I guess I wouldn't mind as much if I hadn't already told you - I have my own fairly public engagement this evening too. Why do I have cancel? It's just ... poker?" Stanford watched Lee button up, his brother's eyes surveying the room for a tie. Sitting in his chair, Stanford absently pointed. 

Stanley looked where he directed, then made his way over. "Thanks." 

"And that's another thing. Stop flirting with that waitress. I like their food. I'd LIKE to be able to go there and just  _eat_."

Stanley laughed. "Well tough luck. I was thinking about asking her out." He threw the tie around his neck. 

Ford groaned and rolled his eyes. "Lee. No - just. Why? Whatever. Fine." 

"What time is it?" 

"You're late." Stanford put a hand to his temple and rubbed. "You're  _always_ late." 

"Fashionably. Wish me luck." He opened the door. 

"Texas Holdem? You're gonna need it." 

"Shut up," Stanley shot him a last grin, then was out the door. 

Stanford rolled his eyes. 

***

Stanley fixed his collar, then took a moment to check his breath. He cringed. "Teeth - right." 

Stanford stepped through the door. "Stanley?  _Stanley_. I need you -  _now_." 

Lee poked his head out. "What?" 

"You need to go." Stanford rushed over and grabbed his brother's arm. 

"Whoa, whoa - hold it!" Lee yanked himself back. 

"What,  _what_?" 

Stanley stood and gestured at his groomed appearance with a proud smile. "I got a date." 

Stanford frowned. "I thought that was last week?"

Stanley shrugged. "This is the second." 

" _Lee_." 

" _What_?" 

"I told you about this a  _week_ ago." 

Stanley's smile dropped. He remembered now - he'd promised. "I know, I know. I forgot." He ran a hand through his hair, troubled. A thought came to him - "Wait! I've got it!" He grabbed Ford's arm and shoved him towards the door. " _You_ can go."

"Wh - ?  _Hey_!" Stanford yanked himself free and stood his ground. "Noooo. Noohoho. What are you  _thinking_?" 

"Come on. I can't let Susan down. What'll she think if I don't show? That I stood her up? I can't do that!" 

Stanford was unmoved. "She'll have to live with it. I'm sure she'll survive." 

"Wait - no! Come on Ford. She's a classy girl. I had a whole evening planned and everything." 

"And you want  _me_ to go in your  _place_? I - I'd just - I'll - ," Stanford fumbled for words. 

"Come on. It's just a date. She won't even know the difference."

"No." 

"It's a picnic. You'd be watching some fire works. Small chat. Easy."

"Lee." 

"If you don't go - then ... I can't go to that meeting. I just can't." 

"You wouldn't. I  _need_ you. Every time I visit with the leader of the Mexican Cartel - he just stares at me with this ... weird glare." 

"You bore him." 

"Offense beside -  _exactly_. And you don't!"

"So I guess the question here is ... how bad do you want that meeting?" 

Stanford stared at him, silently fuming. After a long pause he tightened his hands into fist then let out a breath. " _I hate you_." 

Stanley pumped an arm. "Yes!" 

***

Stanford presented Susan the flowers. She held them in her arms and smelled them with a star in her eyes. They moved to the picnic blanket, set on top the grassy hill, high above the outskirts of their city. The two started in on the basket, pulling out sandwiches and other foods and the like. The evening turned darker and Susan looked out over the lights starting to flicker on, one by one. 

"It's so pretty up here." She looked around at the surroundings, all of it framed by a pair of trees nearby. "Jersey has so many angles." 

Stanford took a nervous swallow of water and tried asking a question. "So ... I don't - I don't remember if I've asked. How long have you lived here?"

"All my life." She smiled at him. "It's home. I like it here. It's familiar, and safe - and always made me think of a giant pile of rowdy cats."

Stanford couldn't help but smile. "What?" 

Susan turned her head away with a shy grin. "Don't make fun. It does." 

"No, no it's ... it's nice." 

"Okay, what about you?" Susan pulled back up and gestured out at the view. "What does Jersey mean to you?" 

Ford immediately glanced down, not unaware of how awkward he felt doing this. But peering over, he saw her looking at him from under quiet lashes. He cleared his throat. "Well I've always thought if felt a bit rough." He shrugged. "A little old. A little cold." He was nervous. He suddenly hated Lee for convincing him to do this and he let out a sigh. Looking out at the view, he mumbled, "Just kinda reminds me of ... me." He came back to himself and flushed. 

Susan grinned over at him. "I see that. That's nice. Like a perfect match." 

Stanford didn't know how to respond, but he didn't have to. Fireworks interrupted him, bursting into the sky and lighting the whole great view up in colors. For a moment, he paused, enjoying the show. He hadn't been expecting it, but he realized just then that this must have been the night's entertainment. He found it pleasant. Simple, yet dazzling.  A good way to relax. 

Ford felt a weight pressing against his side and all of his ease evaporated. Five fingers wrapped themselves between each of his six, and he looked over at Susan - her gaze glued to the sky with a brilliant smile. He kept his composure, but inside he was tense. Her hand was unashamedly intertwined with his, and she was leaning against him without a word. Ford discretely swallowed back his surprise. 

This was Stanley. This was his brother. Of course it was. Lee must have done this. Come off casual and completely unaffected by the physical contact or holding hands, or even of the things one does while ... well, on a date he supposed. Still, he was uncomfortable. This ... this wasn't what he signed up for. And Susan. She thought he was Lee. She liked Lee. She was sitting so close, and acting so calm and nice and friendly because Lee had charmed her. Had enamored her in that way he could - using jokes and ease and all that bravado because Susan like Lee. And Ford; she didn't  _like -_  would have even  _guessed_ that she was holding hands not with Lee, but with - it was all just so ... so ... nice. 

For once in his life Ford took Stanley's advice. He stopped over thinking it and enjoyed the moment. Sitting there, his hand close to hers, the fireworks going off above them. It was all so very ... pleasant. Then her head rested on his shoulder and his heart starting beating fast, but he ignored it. Carefully, wondering how dangerous it just might be, Ford ... rested his head against hers. They watched the display, and to Ford it felt ... good. 

***

Stanley heard Ford come in, the keys jangling as his brother slipped them back onto the hook. "So how'd it go?" Lee asked. He watched Ford's gaze jump to him, not expecting Stanley to be waiting up on him so late. Stanley pushed himself out of his chair. "I hope you didn't mess it up did you?" 

Stanford rolled his eyes then made his way to his room. Stanley tried catching his arm first. "Well, hey - wait. Give me the run down at least." 

Ford shook him off and kept going, avoiding his gaze. Stanley furrowed his brows confused, then let him go. After a pause, he shrugged his shoulders and went to the freezer, pulling out a tub of ice cream, ready for a late night snack. 

***

The morning after, Stanford walked into the diner, his thoughts filled up with his journal and his work, almost forcibly so. Then his waitress walked up, ready to take his order and Ford couldn't help the smile on his face as he greeted her. 

"The usual?" She asked. 

Ford tried remembering what the usual was, but spit out, "Yep," before he could even figure it out. She gave him the routine wink and Ford smiled wider as she walked away. The second she was out of sight, Ford blinked, coming back to himself. He felt himself turning red, then looked down at his journal confused. What was he doing? What was he  _feeling_? 

Well - he knew very much so what he was feeling. And he wanted to be annoyed. He really did. He nodded to himself, resolute. Ford opened his journal, he took out his pen, he steadied himself waving away all that frustrating and very much so  _annoying_ feelings and thoughts.

"Here you go darling." Susan placed his plate in front of him and all thoughts flew from his head. He glanced up, grinning out a thank you gesture, and she walked away a twinkle in her eyes. It took him a full minute to stop peering out from where she'd disappeared back into the kitchen until he looked back down, shaking his head. A sinking feeling was starting to form in his chest. He was starting to wonder if this was something he could so easily dismiss.

And then the thought came to him - did he even want to?

He let out a sigh. This was not something that should have happened.

***

"Ford, you have to cover for me." 

Stanford looked up. Stanley had just stepped into the room. He closed the book he was reading - 'Greek Demon rituals.' "Cover where?" 

Stanley petered out, and he actually looked unsure of what to say. "Well uh ... ," He let out a sigh and came closer. "Look, I know how you feel about this - but I need you to cover for me again with Susan." 

Stanford went silent, afraid of betraying himself, but he gave Lee a hopefully incredulous look of appraisal. Stanley tried to explain. "I've got - well I've got,  _pool night_." He gestured to Ford has if that explained everything. "I've got a night out on the town with the guys and I haven't been able to go for  _weeks_ because of this girl." 

To Ford, it almost sounded a bit lame. "Then why do you keep scheduling it on the same days?" 

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Because I'm an idiot - can you just go?" 

Stanford was surprised to find himself as unopposed as he should. But he tried putting up at least a bit of a fight. "Couldn't you just reschedule? With them  _or_  her?" 

" _No_ , because I don't want her thinking I don't want to see her - ," 

"It's just one time. I don't think - ," 

"But it's  _not_ just one time. This isn't the first, and if I find out I still wanna keeping seeing her I don't wanna take that off the table - ," 

"What?" 

"Just  _go_." Stanley gripped his arm and yanked him up. "Please?" 

Stanley was giving him a convincing look and Ford's resolve was melting. The moment the option had been brought up, he'd been having a hard time thinking all his thoughts through. The sound of his own steady pulse was too distracting. Almost in a daze he agreed. "Okay." 

Stanley stopped fighting, a little surprised, but he rolled with it. "Alright. You're meeting in fifteen minutes at that restaurant across town."

"Stanley that's at least a half hour away."

"I know, you're running late -  _go_." 

***

Stanford walked her up to her doorstep. Standing outside her apartment, he was finally getting a look at the outside of her place. Susan was looking at him. "I had a good time." 

Stanford dragged his eyes back to her and she gave him a slight smile. He nodded. "I'm glad." She was looking at him, not yet stepping in. He'd had a good time too. Almost surprisingly so. But Stanford looked off to the side, not sure what to do next. "Well ... ," He tried taking a step back. "Goodnight." He was about to leave when he saw her roll her eyes. 

"For a genius, you sure can be stupid." 

Ford balked at that, not sure what she meant. Had he played himself down enough? Did she realize he was him and Lee was Lee - or did she just realize his brother's strengths? It turned out he was worried about the wrong thing. She came forward, grabbing him by the arm and engulfing him in a kiss. 

For a moment his thoughts and worries, and theories, and logic, and speculation spiraled out of control. And then it melted and his mind went blank. 

She let go, stepping back. Ford stared, but she gave a little wave walking to her door and then heading inside. Stanford just stood, outside her doorstep, head still empty and with no idea what to do next. 

*** 

Ford looked up as Lee walked in, but already he could tell something was wrong. Stanley's tie was undone, and while that could mean he'd had  _too_ good a time, his expression was clearly vexed. "What's the matter?" 

Stanley shook his head. "Nothing." He went straight for the fridge and threw his box of leftovers in, slamming it shut.

"Well I doubt that." Stanford didn't know if he should bother, but his brother looked like he needed to vent. "Seriously, what's the matter?" 

"Nothing. It's  _nothing_." He ripped his tie completely out of his collar and waved his arms around wildly. "Just - a 'difference in opinion' she called it. Like that  _means_ anything." He threw the piece of cloth aside and moved to leave. "I'm done. I'm done with this. I'll probably break up with her tomorrow. It not working." 

"Wait -  _what_?" 

Stanley paused, looking over to Ford as if just noticing he was there. Stanford was up, looking at Lee like he was lost. "Aren't you being a bit rash? Can't you - can't - shouldn't you, I dunno - at least put out the  _effort_. To - I mean, I bet you didn't even try coming to some type of compromise - you  _never_ put the effort into relationships - ," 

"And why the hell would you care?" Stanley narrowed his eyes, arms crossed and a scowl planted across his face. He wasn't in the mood to have yet someone  _else_ nitpick him and point out  _everything he did wrong_. "Get off my back. I've had it just up to here with the whole thing. So either shut up or  _leave_." He moved to go to his room, then turned back. "And you know what? It's none of your business. Where do you come off getting so worked up over something that doesn't even  _concern_ you?"

Stanford went quiet. The two twins stared at each other in a stalemate for a moment, but Ford's reaction was starting to dawn on him. No more than a second later and  _he_ was the one to rush off and disappear in his room. Stanley watched him zoom past, knocked out of his thoughts by the sudden surprise of it. "Wh - hold up. Where are  _you_ going?" He heard a door slam shut in response and dropped his arms, completely thrown off guard.

Stanley went over to his door, but it was locked. He started feeling annoyed. He'd come home, fuming and ready to feel right in his feelings of being let-down - and now Ford was stealing it all right out from under him. He was about to slam a fist on the door, wound up and prepared for a another argument - maybe even a fist fight if it went that far, he was ready for it - when a thump echoed before he could even knock. Lee paused. There was another thump. And then another. A steady stream of frustrated and self-contempt filled thumps in a rhythm Stanley easily recognized as Ford's own head thudding against a wall. 

All feelings vanished in a self satisfied smirk. Before he could really figure out why he was hearing what he was hearing, he felt glory in having won their argument. Stanford was feeling like an idiot, as was  _right_ \- shoving into his business like that. But then ... pieces weren't lining up. 

Stanley hit on the door. " _Hey_ \- I'm still talking to you." There were more thumps - Ford not letting up. " _Come on_  - ," He pounded on the door again, still not quite getting something. It nagged at him and he didn't like feeling in the dark. " _What_ could  _possibly_ be  _so_ \- ," And then it dawned on him. 

Stanley stepped away, everything else fading in realization. "Oh ... ," He frowned, trying to come to terms. "Ohhhh. Whoa." He cocked a brow, thinking it over. "I don't know if I should laugh or cry." He looked to the door, knowing Ford could hear him. "She really hit you that hard?" 

The thudding noise went silent. There was a pause. Followed by a low and pain filled groan from the other side, and then the thumping picked back up with embarrassed speed.

Stanley stared at the door, and a huge Cheshire grin split across his face, crinkling up into flashing mischievous eyes.

***

A solid seven months in and Stanley didn't get it. Sure he may have got the girl first. And sure she may have said yes to  _his_ question of a date. But Stanford had taken over for more than half a year and they were starting to look steady. What'd Stanford have that he didn't? 

What was it he'd said? He put 'effort' into relationships? Lee rolled his eyes. He knew Ford hadn't meant it. But his brother was heading out  _yet again_ to see Susan, and the guys had kicked him out of the lodge because they didn't 'like' or 'trust' him. So basically, Ford was having a good time and Lee had to stay in yet  _again_ because there was nothing else to do where they could both go out without being noticed. 

Stanley kicked his feet up in front of the TV, ready to wait out the evening. Stanford walked by, straight in front of him, grabbing a few last minute things before heading out. They didn't even greet each other before Stanford left, the whole occasion too normal to be called out. The door shut behind his brother and Stanley glanced after it. He look a minute to look off into space, thinking it all over. Then he rolled his eyes, this time with a smile, and turned back to the TV, turning the volume up. 

His nerd bro had a girlfriend and was pretty happy because of it. Lee shrugged to himself. He could put up with a few boring nights. 

***

Ford was in the garage, ready to take out the car, when Lee came running through. 

"You've gotta go -  _now_." 

Stanford paused. "Yeah ... I am. I'm  _late_ actually. Why?" 

"What?" Stanley looked between him and the Red Diablo, not having even noticed that finding Ford in the garage probably meant he was going out. "No.  _No_ \- You have to leave  _now_. Northwest is pulling up a contract with the Chinese.  _Right now_." 

Ford froze. If the Northwests bombarded that relationship, they'd be through. He looked to Lee, but his brother knew the Mexican Cartels - and a few others - but Ford had the Chinese. He looked around, at a loss, mouth open as if to speak but nothing came out. Stanley ran over and shoved him to another car - more suited to the situation, to show off in front of the Northwests. 

"Go now." 

"I had a date ... ," Ford wasn't fighting back, but he didn't know if he had time to at least cancel ... 

"I've got it. I'm there. The Aquatic Restaurant right?" 

Ford could only dumbly nod before being shoved into the drivers seat. Lee shut the door behind him and adamantly gestured for him to leave. Ford gripped the wheel, readjusting to his new plans. He started the car and left, mentally reviewing everything he'd need. Stanley watched him go, letting out a breath, relieved. 

Then he turned back to the Red Diablo and realized he had a date. 

***

Stanley picked at his plate. The place was so expensive, he almost resented that Stanford would waste their money bringing someone here. Especially when it wasn't some trick to pick up someone new and show them a few first good times. They'd already been dating for months. What was the point?

Susan ate her food across from him, but the awkwardness still wasn't completely erased by the excuse of dinner. Stanley let his thoughts stray to the Northwests and the Chinese, but across from him Susan wiped her mouth and politely coughed. "Um. So ... you were saying earlier. About - what was it? Native American mythology?" 

Stanley side-eyed her as he looked around the room for almost the dozenth time. The most he knew about that stuff was the few symbols he tried translating from their cave drawings - which looked more like his third grade art work than anything else - and just a bit of their demon lore. Lee couldn't believe this was the stuff Ford chose for small talk, but he couldn't keep on like that. "No. No I don't think it was." He reached for his glass and took a sip, just trying to make it through the evening. 

"Oh. Alright. What was it then?"

Stanley shrugged. "I don't think I remember." 

"Right." Susan looked down at her meal, not seeming too upbeat about that answer. 

Stanley gave her a more solid look, feeling a bit bad. At the very least he didn't want to cause any problems for Ford. He waved off the tense atmosphere. "Sorry. I guess I'm just having an off day." It was an easy go-to excuse to explain away the differences between them. An off day. That made lots of sense. Everyone had off days. "It's alright - right? You've had those." 

Susan looked up with a half hearted smile. "Right," she said, before looking back down at her plate. The tense atmosphere didn't go away. 

Lee let out a sigh, feeling even more awkward then before. He noticed a waiter, with his white uniform shirt, the anchor embroidered into the chest, and some fluffy pink tie in the front. He couldn't wait till he could call him over for the check without seeming rude - no matter how much they were robbing from him straight out of his wallet.

***

Stanford silently leaned against the doorway, watching Susan rifle through the office. Her back was turned to him, and she hadn't noticed his approach just yet. She dug through draws and around the bookshelf - just missing the private entrance to the back of the house. He didn't try and stop her, or even let her know he was there. He was feeling pretty low as it was, but this had him outright tired. 

Susan stepped back, eyes glancing around for some clue. She turned - then froze when she caught sight of Ford. He raised a brow, barely challenging her. 

"Stan ... ," Susan eyes shifted about, racing for something to say, but nothing came. 

Ford wasn't waiting for a response. He brought up an over sized, metal clasped envelope he was holding, glancing it over. "You're looking for this." He looked back to her, but she avoided his eyes, preferring to stare at the orange packet. Ford took in a breath, curious enough to ask a question, "I heard you were coming, but - did Gleeful approach you, or did you go to him?" 

This time, Susan had the place to glare. Ford narrowed his eyes, then dropped his arm. "I got you're letter." 

"I told the post to rescind that." 

"No, right. Right." Ford bounced off the doorway, standing in front of her. "Because - it'd be  _easier_. If I caught you breaking into my house - invading my things - before you send a letter saying 'We're finished Stan Pines' - ,"

"Stan - ," 

"Because I might - what? Barely notice when you ransack my home? Looking for incriminating information for a rival?" 

" _Stan_ \- ," 

"And then  _after_. After you can send you're letter - and get whatever Gleeful promised you. Because it'd be  _easier_ to do all that before you had already - ," 

"Stan Pines!" Susan glared up at him, not taking anymore of it, and Ford went quiet. "You better not  _dare_ pretend like I'm some sort of infiltrator - only here to rob you blind. You aren't just some  _victim_." 

"So what?" That tiredness came back, and it brought a calm. "And this isn't some sort of ... 'betrayal?' "

Susan huffed, then looked away. "I - I've got a sick  _cousin_ \- ," 

"No you  _don't_." Stanford couldn't keep himself from at least getting annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

Susan drew herself up. "Am I supposed to be some sort of bitter  _ex_ then?"

"You tell me. What  _is_ this?" 

Susan glowered. "You think you're so above it all. You couldn't  _possibly_ think there'd be a reason someone wouldn't like you unless they were a 'rival.' You're like a child - with 'arch enemies' and all you're efforts to win against anyone who might come up against you. Well news flash Stan - you can barely make a decent boyfriend, let alone a  _person_." She rounded the desk and confronted him. "I mean gosh Stan - you're so hot and cold, I can't tell if I should take off my jacket or put on a scarf!"

"What?" 

Susan shook her head, not letting him take over. "You've been better about it lately, but I can't live wondering the next time you're gonna flip a switch. And I've seen you steal  _mints_. Who does that? It's petty, and immature, and you do it whenever you think no one's looking - ," 

Ford frowned, a rising frustration growing in his chest, half aimed at Stanley, the other half stuck in the conversation, confused and not knowing what to say - but Susan went on. "And the way you talk to me! That  _thing_ you do. When you slowly grind to a halt and stop talking as if you think something you're saying just went over my head - it's  _insulting_. It's like you expect everyone around you to be some kind of idiot, and you change the subject every five minutes 'cause you don't think any of us 'little people' can keep up! It drives me  _insane_." 

Ford swallowed, the heaviness coming back, his expression growing more and more closed off. Susan rolled her eyes and stepped back, waving her hands around. She was going to let this all out. "And the  _secrets_. Stan - the  _secrets_." All she could do was gesture around the room as if for proof. "We've been dating for  _how long_ , and you never talk about your job. Or even just your  _life_. And you cut me out of your  _days_. Anytime I ask about how you  _feel_ \- you give me a bland  _statement_. There's no emotional honesty - or  _any_ honesty for that matter. I feel like I'm carrying both ends of this relationship! Every other words feels like it's  _censured_! Like you're always keeping yourself just one step back at a distance, and you won't even consider letting anyone get close! Did you really expect me to be satisfied with that forever?  _Really_?" 

"As if - as if you're not perfect either - ," Ford tried responding, not sure what to say as he reeled, but refusing to just let that sit unchallenged. 

But it was the wrong response. Susan visibly recoiled. "Don't. Just don't. Don't even go there." She shook her head and looked to the ceiling, a rueful smile trying to make sense of it all. "We're done Stan. We're finished." She looked over to him, all hints of the smile gone. 

Stanford met her gaze, taking in a breath as it settled in. Underneath everything he was feeling twisted up and bitter, but above all that was the tiredness. He clenched his jaw, working through the emotions, then let out air through his nose. "Alright." Ford shrugged. "At least you could say that much in  _person_." He frowned at Susan, daring her to challenge, at most, that out of everything.  

She didn't. The two stood in the room, glancing away from the other, resolving it all in their minds. Ford stared down at the envelope. "Here." He tossed it onto the desk. "Take it. Take whatever pretty penny Gleeful promised you. Call it - ," For the briefest of moments, he felt a bit of scorn. "A  _goodbye_ gift. From me." He wanted to sneer at her, but it all faded as he dropped his arm, and he still felt dull. 

Susan picked up the packet, then looked over at him. She moved to leave, shoving past, and Ford made room, squeezing shut his eyes as they brushed together for just that moment - and then she was gone. 

He breathed through his nose, then let out a shaky breath, the weight of it all just starting to hit him. He stood alone in the office, mind elsewhere - until the bookcase opened, with the door behind it. 

Stanley stepped in. He took one look at Ford, and then a quick scan around the room, and then to the exit. Immediately he frowned, turning to Ford, angry. "You let her walk  _out_ with it? With the envelope? To give to  _Gleeful_?"

Stanford barely spared him a glance, before moving past and disappearing for his room. Stanley watched him go, almost horrified, but concern for his brother poked through. He glanced back at the room, and then the exit, a deep etched frown setting in.

***

Stanley looked around the main room, but once again - Ford was nowhere to be seen. He slowly glanced over to Ford's door, silently daring his brother not to be on the other side. Going over, he went in - to be greeted by an almost impenetrable dark and a heavy atmosphere that might've been sticking to his skin. " _Ford_." Lee tried waiting for his eyes to adjust to the heavy gloom as he called out his brother's name. "I swear. Are you in here?" 

"What." Stanford's voice, though flat, was still tinged with a pointed tone of annoyance. And he was, in fact, inside the room. 

"Stanford - ," Lee was about to ask or command, or even complain about something, but it all left him as his eyes adjusted. Stanley looked around the room, and without permission, a sinking feeling slammed down his gut. He swallowed hard and went for anger to help push it all away. " _What is this_?" He thought he heard his own voice sound a bit hoarse, so he cleared it and tried again. "What did I say? What did we  _agree_?" He looked over at Ford, but his brother was scratching away in a journal, almost ignoring him in favor of finishing his last thought on the page. " _Stanford_!" 

" _What_." Ford snapped back, unable to look away despite half moving his head in Stanley's direction. 

The entire room was covered. Paper taped and stapled and push pinned to the wall. Pictures and drawings and written out entries slapped up with the rest of them. But the floor was worse. The floor was filled to the brim with piles and piles of those same type of papers not deemed important enough to keep in constant view. The place was a mess in other ways too. Half eaten food and empty plates laying around. An unkempt bed. Clothes thrown no where near the hamper until, Lee assumed, Ford stopped bothering to change altogether. But that was just a mess. Stanley's room could look just as bad, if not worse - but it was the unique 'decorations.' Ford's 'research.' His obsession. 

He was looking into Bill Cipher again.

"I thought we agreed. None of this in your  _room_."

Ford's last sentence finished with an irritated flourish and he snapped his gaze over to Stanley. Lee stared him down because Ford knew very well that this was  _not_ acceptable. Finally he broke. 

" _Fine_ ," Ford seethed. He stood up, balancing precariously on uneven feet between his mess. "You want it out?" He went to the nearest wall and  _ripped_ some of the papers off. "Then I'm taking it out!" He wobbled over to the door and when he got there, Stanley helped yank him through by the arm, all put pushing him out of the room.

"This whole place smells fowl. You're gonna clean it too. You've got other work you're responsible for. Stan Pines isn't going to start smelling like some hermit's mental breakdown.  _When_ was the last time you even opened up a  _window_?" 

"Oh, Shut up." Ford's tone had fallen flat again, but he was doing what Stanley said. 

Lee watched him go, then looked back to the room. A shiver ran down his spine at some of the images and he got angry at himself for the reaction. But still. He looked back to Ford, then the room. 

He let out a sigh, knowing he'd have to keep an eye on it the next few days to make sure it stayed 'research' free.

***

"You know. The Corduroy's. They do pretty well despite their odd assembly." Stanley leaned against the kitchen counter, cupping his mug of cocoa. The house had a chill now, so the drink was pleasant. "I mean. They aren't really - a family per say." He was just spitting out thoughts. Next to him Ford was pretty silent. It was a quite day, and they were idling around. "I mean. It's mostly bikers." He thought about that, then shrugged. "Then again, they own the motorcycle business." Another pause. "And the hardware business." Another one. "And the lumber for some specific reason. And most of the port - do you think they're starting to grow a bit of a monopoly?" Stanley looked over to Ford.

Stanford stayed silent. Lee sipped at his mug, then grimace. He grabbed a packet of sweeter and added it in. "I dunno - I mean most of business is trafficking goods. And we're  _right_ next to the ocean. Most stuff goes  _through_ the port. I feel like that could be a problem later on. Not sure how." Lee shrugged. "But it might." He took another sip of his drink then looked to Ford. "Seriously, what do you think?" He glanced his brother up and down and over, narrowing his eyes. "Ford." He stuck out a hand and gave Stanford a sharp poke. 

Ford looked up, rubbing at his arm, looking between it and Lee, confused. 

Stanley rolled his eyes. "You need some more sugar in that cocoa? To give it a spike?" He moved to leave, sipping at his chocolate, annoyed.

***

There was nothing Ford could have done to keep Lee from being in such a great mood. He'd had a great day - heck a great  _week_ \- out as the sole Stan pines. Not stuck up, watching TV, or sneaking off, trying to avoid being seen. But week or not - that day had been great, and Lee had had a great time, and maybe if Ford hadn't been hidden away in his room he might have cut it off at the head. 

But he didn't, and who was Stanley to warn him of his good mood. It was only fair - no. It was what Stanford  _deserved_. Which also meant, Lee wasn't going to worry about cleaning up his own mess, because as far as he could reason - Ford had done this to himself. 

Stanley filled up a giant bucket with ice cold water and slipped into Ford's room. And then proceeded to dump the entire thing on his brother's sleeping head. 

Immediately there was a loud shout - Ford burst awake, and his first action was to barrel Lee away. The bucket wasn't yet empty, and fell out of Stanley's hands, falling onto his own head and he shouted at the cold, getting completely wet, and both twins wound up on a soaking drenched floor, freezing cold - one of which was not only confused, but seething with rage. 

"What - the  _hell_ \- was THAT?" Ford bit out his words, only for the cold to seep in and for his teeth to start chattering a few seconds later. Still, he rubbed at an eye, trying to wipe away the rest of his sleep.

Lee hopped up and headed out of the room, but Ford stormed after him. " _Lee_ \- ," 

"Oh, can it Poindexter." He grinned over his shoulder, and then headed to his room to change out of the cold wet clothes. 

" _Stanley_. It's too  _early_ for this!"

Lee flicked his eyes back to him, his amusement dropping to a matter of fact level gaze. "Stanford. It's four in the afternoon." Ford's gaze shot to the nearest clock, but Lee disappeared into his room. "You're not just gonna check out of our life!" He yelled from behind the door. "So get up and go for a run or something you fat old man!" 

Ford set his jaw, then slipped back into his room,  _slamming_ it shut to clean up the mess, and then - yes, resentfully - get up for the day and hopefully all the next. " _Lee_ ," he gritted out. Wiping at his eyes again, he looked around the room. Letting out a sigh, he started to realize he'd really been out of it lately. He resolved to get things back together.

Because at the very least, he had revenge on Stanley to plan.

***

Lee strode into the building, laughing, side by side by prospective partners from the Mexican Cartel. It was his favorite place after all -  _best_ pancake stack in all of New Jersey - and he'd just pulled a pretty tedious all-nighter. They needed a pick-me-up. 

The group took a booth, Stanley charming his way between each of them. This was his domain. Stanford could analyze their information, and maybe come up with strategies for whatever problem they were solving - in a word, genuinely make profit and explain benefits and all that. And Stanley could too. To an extent. But this group of people here. He was used to them, and he knew they worked by greasing palms, and part of that meant breakfast with  _jokes_. 

Everyone laughed.

Their waitress came up, ready to take their order. Stanley turned to her, trying to pull his gaze off everyone with a grin. He stopped when they met eyes. Lee stared at Susan, and Susan stared back, caught unawares just as much. They both looked away. No one else seemed to noticed, and started ordering, distracting Susan by asking what was good and about the specials and such. 

Stanley regained himself just enough to peer past his menu and look at her out of the corner of his eyes. He wasn't too happy, and caught himself thinking over the whole situation with Greasy Diner's waitress none too fondly. When Lee ordered, he was about to say the usual, but hesitated. 

She filled in the gap, asking it for him. "The - usual?" 

He nodded, and she was gone, unable to notice his jaw tighten with a sudden feeling of frustration. Somehow he managed to make it through the rest of the meal, trying to distract himself with his job, and also trying to do it right - it was important. But morning wrapped up, and each of them headed back to their cars - to make their way back to 'real' business. 

Stanley stood right outside the Red Diablo, looking up at the restaurant's sign, thinking about Susan, and about Ford, and just a little bit about Gleeful. One thing was for certain. He opened the red door and slipped into the car. 

He wasn't going back to that place. And he  _definitely_ wasn't letting Ford back either. 

He'd make sure of that.


End file.
